


Her Only Resolution

by AFey



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFey/pseuds/AFey
Summary: Andy couldn’t decide which was more pathetic: being home  on New Year’s Eve with only Bridget Jones for company, both of them wailing along to Celine’s rendition of ‘All by Myself’, or wishing she actually was Bridget Jones.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 21
Kudos: 196





	Her Only Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! The DWP fandom is one of the best I’ve ever been involved with - I hope 2020 is great year for all.
> 
> Note: I’m actually rather fond of Bridget Jones...but I don’t own her or anything DWP-related.

**I. New Year’s Eve, 2006**

Andy couldn’t decide which was more pathetic: being home on New Year’s Eve with only Bridget Jones for company, both of them wailing along to Celine’s rendition of ‘All by Myself’, or wishing she actually _was_ Bridget Jones. Though fictional, and suffused by insecurity, at least Bridget had boozy, loyal friends who supported her regardless of her many missteps. As Andy approached the end of 2006, she felt like a complete failure, an unlovable soul who no one would ever care about again.

Sucking down the last of some cheap champagne, she tried to determine when everything had become so fucked up. Sleeping with Christian was a real low point. While she’d like to blame the expensive wine for her mistake, Andy knew that was a poor excuse. She’d been pissed off with both Miranda and Nate, and decided to bury herself in the arms of someone who seemed to understand. Of course, that turned out to be complete bullshit. Christian just wanted to lay claim to her because she was one of Miranda’s girls - a reality he’d enlightened her with after the ill-fated Runway luncheon. If he couldn’t undermine Miranda, hurting her was the next best thing.

Pushing herself off the couch, Andy added the champagne bottle to her recycling pile. As she looked around the apartment, taking in the mess and clutter, she was overcome with anger. Anger at life, the world, and most of all, herself. She was young and healthy, with a decent job that allowed her to survive in New York City. Really, she had so much to be grateful for and after a month or two of self-indulgent wallowing she’d had enough. With 2007 on the horizon, she needed to make some serious resolutions. 

She walked into her bedroom, grabbing a pen and notebook from her bedside table. Ready to commit herself to some serious life improvement, she wrote the following: 

  1. Stop thinking about stupid men. 
  2. Forget about judgemental friends.



And most of all:

NO MORE FANTASIES ABOUT MIRANDA FUCKING PRIESTLY.

Miranda Priestly who had somehow bewitched Andy without even trying, haunted her dreams, and made it impossible to think about meeting anyone new because nobody could live up to her brilliance and beauty.

Like most New Year’s resolutions, Andy broke them all before the end of January.

**II. New Year’s Eve, 2007**

In Times Square, her boyfriend by her side, Andy thought the end of 2007 was a vast improvement on the previous year. Her estrangement from Lily and Doug no longer stung, the memory of Nate was misty at best, and her job had proven even more rewarding than she’d hoped. All things considered, the year had been a good one.

Watching the ball drop, Andy felt considerable optimism about the future. She was confident that Jack was one of the good guys. He supported her career and displayed no resentment about her long hours. When she missed a date because of a deadline, he didn’t sulk. He had his own career and interests to occupy his time and was pleased to have a girlfriend with ambition. 

After seeing in the New Year with a passionate kiss, they walked all the way back to their hotel, a treat that Jack had organised to save them enduring public transport. It was a thoughtful gesture that reinforced her faith in him and their relationship. As they strolled through the streets, bundled up against the cold, she felt safe and comfortable.

When they entered the Garment District, she did her best not to think about the one person who made her feel anything but safe and comfortable. Naturally, she failed. Passing the building that housed Oscar de Le Renta’s showroom, Andy was overcome with memories of Miranda. Memories of a shared elevator ride, the accidental brushing of shoulders when she’d lost her balance, Miranda’s hand on her back when they exited the elevator a few minutes later.

As Jack squeezed her hand, pulling her into a tight hug, Andy felt guilty that her thoughts were focused on someone else entirely. When his lips pressed against hers, she closed her eyes, and pretended she was kissing the woman who somehow still owned her soul. When their lips parted, Andy realised she’d be starting 2008 with the dubious honour of breaking someone’s heart.

**III. New Year’s Eve, 2008**

As another year drew to a close, Andy stood in the corner of the ballroom, a glass of wine in hand, watching her date. Evie, red-haired, blue-eyed, and totally cool, circulated around the party, making up for their late arrival by schmoozing all the movers and shakers. As Andy looked around the room, she was disappointed not to see anyone of interest. Of course, ‘anyone of interest’ probably attended for her usual fifteen minutes before escaping to somewhere far more desirable.

From across the room, Evie winked at Andy and pointed to her watch, then out to the balcony. Message received, she fought her way outside, breathing in the fresh air, hugging herself against the cold. Though an interlude on the balcony was very romantic, she really should have retrieved her coat first. She swallowed the last of her wine, hoping the alcohol would warm her up. 

“Is it cold out here, or are you just happy to see me?”

Andy spat out her wine and stared at the woman hidden in the shadows. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, “I didn’t even see you there.” Andy’s tone conveyed detachment, but the beating of her heart was a reminder of her devotion.

A snort of disbelief assaulted her ears and Andy rolled her eyes.

“Not everything is about you, Miranda.”

She watched, every nerve ending alive, as Miranda stalked towards her. Instantly, Andy understood the fear experienced by prey animals around the world.

“I don’t understand your attitude, Andrea.” Miranda narrowed her eyes and Andy swallowed hard. “As I recall, you ran out on me.”

Andy wished she still had wine on hand; a little more Dutch courage would have been a godsend. “Excuse me. I apologised for leaving you.”

Miranda nodded and her eyes gleamed bright. “Yes, I did so enjoy the message you left on my phone.”

“Well,” Andy began and then stopped. “Well,” she tried again, “I didn’t quite know what to say.”

“My intrepid wordsmith. Lost for words,” Miranda drawled, passing Andy her own glass of wine.

Andy eyed the glass. She really couldn’t blame Miranda for not responding to her lousy message. It was an inadequate explanation for her decision and she should have been brave enough to speak to Miranda directly. “It’s not poisoned, right?”

Miranda laughed, but it was hollow. “Oh, I think I’m a little old to be poisoning every lover who disappoints me.”

Andy reached out slowly, giving Miranda time to rescind her offer. Her fingers brushed Miranda’s as she took possession of the glass. “I really was sorry.” She swallowed the last of the wine and added, “I still am sorry.” 

Silence descended upon them until Miranda replied, “Me, too. I should have known you weren’t ready for anything serious.”

“Yeah,” she said, “I thought I was ready. You know I adore the twins.” She sighed. “I was scared, but that’s no excuse. I’m so-”

Miranda shook her head. “Enough of that, Andrea. It just wasn’t our time.”

As the crowd inside counted down from ten, Miranda and Andy stood side by side, neither saying a word. When the cries of Happy New Year reached the balcony, Andy was relieved not to be with Evie. Though she enjoyed her company, after a month of dating she thought the other woman was a little too much.

“Shouldn’t you be inside kissing the one you love?” Miranda asked, the sarcasm not quite hitting the mark.

“The one I love,” Andy said, “the woman I’ve _always_ loved _,_ is standing right beside me.” Taking a chance, she placed a hand on Miranda’s lower back.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Miranda warned, “I’m too old to play games.”

Andy turned towards her, moving her hand to Miranda’s waist. “And I’ve grown up enough to know I want you. All of you.”

Miranda frowned. “I’m still a mother, Andrea. I still have responsibilities.”

Andy pulled Miranda closer. Her heart almost leapt out of her chest when firm fingers came to rest on her hip. “I’m ready, Miranda.”

As they kissed, oblivious to the other party goers, Andy realised it was the first time in her life that she’d entered a New Year in the arms of the person she loved. 

**IV. New Year’s Eve, 2009**

When the ball dropped in Times Square, neither Miranda or Andy were aware nor did they care. Instead they were naked in bed, newly engaged, making the most of their time alone. With Miranda between her legs, Andy’s only thoughts were of the tongue licking her clit, the fingers thrusting into her.

Afterwards, several hours into 2010, they lay beside each other, both satisfied but neither of them very interested in sleep.

“Happy New Year,” Andy said. Her fingers were stroking the side of Miranda’s body, hopeful that their night wasn’t over.

“Happy New Year,” Miranda replied, taking Andy’s hand and placing it between her legs.

“Hmmm, make that a very Happy New Year,” Andy amended, as she concentrated on fulfilling her only resolution. Loving Miranda Priestly every chance she got.

**Author's Note:**

> S: my only resolution ❤️


End file.
